


Camping Trip

by unchartedangst



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Cuddling & Snuggling, Fluff, Gay Sex, M/M, Oral Sex, Rimming, Romance, Sciles, Skittles
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-26
Updated: 2014-12-26
Packaged: 2018-03-03 15:45:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2856329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unchartedangst/pseuds/unchartedangst
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Scott and Stiles go on an annual camping trip as college students during summer break, and things get interesting.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Camping Trip

Scott is sprawled on top of his bed, lying on his belly, naked except for boxers. He’s sound asleep, grinning blissfully into his pillow, enjoying sleeping in on the first day of summer break from college. He refuses to use any blankets, it’s simply too hot for them. Only a single bedsheet that is messily coiled around his legs accounts for any comfort. He loves the way the thin, cool fabric feels against his skin, in contrast to the thick masses of fur that his mother bought for him to take with him to Washington. He would prefer sleeping naked, but he doesn’t exactly wish for the awkward situation of someone walking in on him when he’s sleeping like that - even though his apartment door is securely locked.

His right hand rests lazily on the side of the wooden dresser. He has hit the snooze button a total of 6 times ever since 8:00 am - the morning sun that penetrates through the blinds of his window or the blaring noise of the alarm doesn’t seem to have woken the beast. He’s supposed to be awake by 9 am to get ready for the camping trip that he’s going on with Stiles . . . (which is annually on the first day of summer break) and, it’s currently 8:59 am.

Right when the minute ticks to nine, Stiles - right on time, as usual with his excited and punctual self - is already at Scott’s door.

“Scott!” yells Stiles as he pounds against the door. “Scott! You better be awake!”

“Even though you’re probably not, again…” he mutters to himself.

Scott’s body snaps awake from slumber, triggered by the familiar sound and scenario of Stiles arriving at his door, shouting for him to wake up. Disoriented and groggy, his eyes dart to the clock, and he instantly jumps out of the bed. “Fuck, shit,” he mutters. Guilt wallows over him. This is the third time in a row that this has happened.

“Of course I’m already awake!” Scott calls as he fumbles for some clothes to put on. He drags on a grey shirt and tries to prance into jeans. He fails to jump into his pants gracefully, tripping over himself and crashing into the floor, producing a loud thump. Stiles hears it, and laughs knowingly through his teeth.

“Dude, I knew you weren’t awake yet,” Stiles calls through the door, snorting. “This happened last time. Just let me in...I’m not mad, bro.”

Scott lifts himself back up off the ground, slightly grimacing in embarrassment. Great, so my cover is blown. Again. He pulls his pants on slowly this time, and walks over to the door, unlocks it, and opens it.

Stiles is standing there, smiling mockingly. He’s wearing a red Washington State University jacket, hood on. His brown jeans match the color scheme of his eyes, which shine with jubilance.

“Hey dude, sorry about that. I was at this huge Frat party last night,” Scott tells Stiles, rubbing his eyes and squinting at the sudden brightness of light. “I didn’t get home till 3 am.”

“No worries man,” Stiles says, patting Scott’s disheveled hair. He walks past Scott into the house, jingling his car keys, pulling his hood off. “We still have time until we get on the freeway. I bought you a Starbucks, knowing you’d need it.”

“Java Chip?” Scott asks with excitement. He follows Stiles into his bedroom to grab the coffee from his hand. Stiles rolls his eyes as he hands it to him, nodding. “Dude, I don’t know what I’d do without you, to be honest.”

“Well, I know what you would do without me,” Stiles says while scanning his room, noticing the mess. “You’d still have the same messy room and still be unpacked for our camping trip.” His joking voice causes Scott to go red in the ears. He does have a messy room a lot of the time.

“Alright, alright, my room is a mess. But I did pack!” Scott scoffs, playfully punching Stiles’ shoulder. He walks over a dirty pile of clothes and over to his closet, opening it to reveal a heavy loaded backpack and lunch bag. “I packed last night. I knew I wouldn’t make time for it in the morning -”

“Wait, Scott McCall planned ahead?” Stiles jives. “That’s a shocker. How did you manage to pack through a drunken haze?”

“Well, I actually didn’t drink at the party -”

“What? You didn’t drink at a party?” Stiles gapes in disbelief. “Then what did you do? Braid your armpit hair in the corner the whole time? You can’t go to a party without drinking! That doesn’t make sense - you’re making no sense this morning. Are you sure you’re not drunk?”

Scott laughs, enjoying Stiles’ reaction. “I’ve been on a diet lately, I’ve started to work out more. Alcohol doesn’t really help with my workout or diet routine, so I cut it out.” He pauses, remembering the night before, vividly. He scratches the back of his head. “I actually had a… remarkably good time at the party.”

Stiles grabs Scott’s bicep, frowning with thought. “Hm, you’re already buff, so I don’t really see the point of shaming me even more by getting even buff-er than you actually are.” Scott tensed at the touch of Stiles’ hand, which was warm, as usual. He didn’t say anything about it though. That would be weird to call his friend’s hand “warm.” It would be like telling a guy that his tongue looked like it could eat a girl out professionally. Well, maybe that’s extreme, but still. “So I guess I shouldn’t bring booze with us for the trip?”

“You could bring it for yourself, I’m not going to stop you. I just won’t be drinking it,” Scott grins.

“Nah, bro, Bros Before Heineken,” Stiles says with faux seriousness, putting his hands on his hips. “That wouldn’t be cool of me to do. Maybe I should get on with whatever routine you’re on, I’m kinda tired looking like a twig. Well, not literally a twig, I’m toned I guess but -”

“Okay, I get it Stiles,” Scott laughs. He swings on his backpack and puts his lunch bag over his shoulder. “Thanks for your thoughtfulness. Maybe we should workout and run in the mountains if you’re seriously interested in it -”

“Hell yeah, man! Just promise not to kill me, okay? Or worse… feed me to bears…”

Scott rolls his eyes. “Alright, awesome. I’ll try not to kill you, or, feed you to bears or whatever.” He walks over to his bathroom. “Hey, I’m going to tidy up a bit, then I’ll meet you out in the Jeep, okay?”

“Alright,” Stiles says. “Meet you in my baby!” He walks briskly out the door, closing it quietly behind him.

Scott sets down his stuff and begins to wash his face. He then begins to brush his teeth, shaking his head, disbelieving how ridiculous his friend actually his. He loves him, though. Stiles is his best friend. Really, his only real friend. Stiles was the only one who jumped instantly to the idea of going out of state to college with him, everyone else laughed in his face at the idea. Even his frat boy friends seem fake to him at this point.

_Ridiculousness is better than insanity, I guess._

After he’s done freshening up, he gets on his hiking boots and carries his luggage out of the door, and walks down the stairs to the parking lot. The cold morning air brushes against Scott’s cheeks, sending shivers down his spine. He’s always been very sensitive to cold temperature outside. Good thing it will be getting really hot later; well, kind of a good thing in a sense.

Stiles is sitting in his Jeep, blasting the radio, which seems to be Lorde’s _Pure Heroine_ album. He listens to that on repeat all the time.

Scott reaches the passenger door and opens it, allowing the song _Royals_ to loudly serenade the whole apartment complex. He hurries into the car and shuts the door, grateful that Stiles put the heat on before he got in.

“I know you always get cold,” Stiles says as he slightly turns down the volume and starts the car. “So I made sure to warm the baby up before you sat in her.”

“Thanks dude, but can you please stop calling your car ‘baby?’ The last sentence you just said gave me the creeps.”

_Maybe insanity isn’t as bad as ridiculousness. Let’s hope._

Stiles smirks. “Alright, fine. What do you suggest I call her then?” They are now pulling out of the parking lot, driving down the road that leads to the freeway.

“Maybe something more civil. Like…” Scott laughs at his own answer before he says it. “Starlord.”

Stiles rolls his eyes knowingly. “Dude, you are seriously too obsessed with _Guardians of the Galaxy_. You were texting me about it all weekend when you saw it last Friday. And now it’s Monday, and I guess I’ll still be hearing about it for the whole trip.”

“I was only kidding!” Scott says through a laugh that causes Stiles to grin. “How about we come up with a name when we’re on the way back?”

“Gosh, so I have to wait two days?”

“Yeah, and two nights,” Scott remarks with a grin of his own. “I promise you it will be good.”

“It better be.” Stiles glances over at him. Notices a scratch on his neck, his joyful expression turns to concern. “Hey, what happened to your neck?”

 _Oh no. I can’t tell him what happened last night. I have to lie._ He swallows before answering. “Oh yeah, there was a cat at the party last night. It straight up attacked me unprovoked, right when I walked into the door.”

Stiles seems to not notice the lie as he stared at the road in front of him. “Fuck, I hate cats. Ever since I’ve been a child, I’ve hated everything about them. Anyway, want to grab a quick breakfast before we hit the freeway? A McDonald's is right ahead.”

Scott is pleased that Stiles didn’t try to push the topic further, taking a deep breath. “Uh, McDonald's? Stiles, remember my diet?”

“Oh yeah, duh, sorry. Let’s go to iHop and get some blueberry pancakes then? Blueberry pancakes aren’t too bad, right? I mean, blueberries are fruits!”

Scott laughs. “I guess that will be alright. A diet isn’t a diet without little mistakes, anyway.”

And so they went - stuffing their faces with orange juice, five blueberry pancakes each, bacon, over easy eggs (which they both prefered), and hashbrowns, all in the duration of nine minutes. The meal that sounded as if it was to take an hour to eat on the menu could not stand a chance against these boys’ appetites. They promptly left after paying their bill and tipping the waitress, dizzying out of the restaurant with food comas.

“Boy, this food will probably last me the whole trip!” Stiles says as he gets into the car. Scott follows suit, rubbing his stomach.

“Fuck yeah, man. I’ve never been this full. We seriously need to actually work out up there like we said.”

“We’ll have to eat our packed lunches when we get to good ol’ Cougar Rock,” Stiles chimes, drumming the steering wheel to the tune of Tennis Court as he drives back on to the road and on to the freeway.. Cougar Rock has been the campsite that the two have been going to since freshman year of college. Since they are officially seniors at the start of break, they have gone a total of two times - both times proved amazing, at the expense of their craziness and innovative ways of having fun (not sex, if you’re thinking that).

“I’ll actually be starving by then, probably.” he continues. His metabolism burns at the rate of a fire ravaging through a forest.

“Of course we will, Stiles,” Scott mutters. “It’s a fucking six hour ride. We’ll just have to live off of the granola bars I brought with me. I really don’t want to delve into my ten packed sandwiches already.”

“Please don’t tell me you brought the shitty strawberry flavored ones. Those taste like ass.”

“No, dude, I brought the dutch chocolate ones. How the fuck do you know what ass tastes like?”

Stiles scowls. “I don’t know what it fucking actually tastes like, dumbass. Who would?”

“Maybe ass kissers.”

“Like Jackson Whittemore?”

Scott cringes at the name. “Yes, like that fuckface.”

“Hm, I’ll have to ask him what it tastes like then.”

“Or maybe you could taste it yourself.” Scott snorts.

“I guess I’ll add that to my bucket list,” Stiles whispers, biting his lip jokingly.

They both laughed harder than they have in five years.


End file.
